


I Know Your Love’s Not Real (That's Not the Way It Feels)

by happy_hufflepuffle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Complicated Relationships, Falling In Love, Friends to Enemies to Friends to Lovers, I just can't tag, Minor Character Death, Suicide Attempt, Tags Are Hard, Unresolved Emotional Tension, but I promise it has a happy ending, it's not as dark as my tags suggest, some of this is kind of dark, technically falling back in love, tw for suicide attempt/suicidal feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 00:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16629185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happy_hufflepuffle/pseuds/happy_hufflepuffle
Summary: Louis broke Harry's heart, their relationship always teetering between love and hate. But no matter what, Harry is always magnetised. And maybe Louis might be too.--Harry and Louis go for a walk and figure out a few things.





	I Know Your Love’s Not Real (That's Not the Way It Feels)

Harry wanders restlessly around the house. He can’t seem to stand still: hands moving to adjust, tidy; and, when they’re still, fingers tapping nervously. His thoughts are a steady litany of _Louis will be here again. Louis might see my room. Louis will be here. This is a bad idea. Louis. Louis._

He enters his room and eyes the scattered clothing piles; tucks stray boxers under hoodies and tshirts. The roses on his windowsill are slowly dying, petals dropping like pastel tears. _Louis_. Harry ignores the whispers in the back of his head, instead moving to gently scoop up the pink petals and deposit them out the open window into the garden.

He checks his phone. Barely two minutes have passed but his heart races anyway, his mouth drying out. Casting one last critical glance around his bedroom and one cautious glance out the window in case Louis is walking along the driveway, he turns and makes his way to the kitchen for a drink.

The tap water is tepid. Combined with the heat of late spring, it makes Harry flush, sweat beading on his body and sending him scurrying back to his room for deodorant. He can’t help himself; he sneaks another look out the window. Louis is still not there.

Returning to the kitchen, Harry sculls the remainder of his drink, the lukewarm water making his stomach heave uncomfortably. He looks out the window above the sink. He can see over the neighbours fence, where the builders that have been swarming over the house for the past few months are putting the finishing touches to a white Grecian roof structure that overhangs the porch. The bright afternoon sun makes the white paint almost unbearable to look at. Harry forces himself to anyway. Maybe if he looks for long enough, he won’t be able to see Louis. Because Harry sees him everywhere.

Louis is in the smile of a stranger, in long legs in Harry’s peripheral vision. He’s in the heat of days like this one, in a scent carried on a warm breeze. And Harry can’t get him out of his head.

 

“Hello?”

It’s Louis. Harry would know that voice in his sleep. He tears his eyes away from the blinding white of the neighbours paintwork and makes his way cautiously to the hallway. Louis has already opened the screen door and is happily patting Lola, Harry’s near-frantic golden retriever. When Louis looks up at Harry and grins, Harry is instantly transported back to the countless mornings where Louis would come by so they could walk to school together.

\----

Louis lived just out of town, so he would catch the bus, which happened to stop down the end of Harry’s street. Harry would wait eagerly, nose pressed to the window as his mum called him to “ _Please just come eat, Harry. I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”_

Harry would ignore her and wait for Louis to appear so they could eat cold pancakes (“They’d be warm if you weren’t staring out the window all morning!”) together before disappearing out the door in a flurry of limbs.

But that was a long time ago. The Louis standing at his door is a very different Louis to the small, chubby-cheeked, little-boy Louis that used to get into pancake fights with Harry as the morning radio played in the background. This Louis is a stranger.

\----

Harry smiles back hesitantly as Louis steps assuredly over the doorstep, toeing off his shoes and slinging his bag down beside them. Everything about his movements is so achingly familiar that Harry’s throat burns and he only mumbles a hello as he retreats into the kitchen to get another drink. Louis has no such issue, following Harry confidently and taking a seat on one of the stools. For a moment Harry almost hates how easily Louis has slotted himself back in as if he never left. But then Louis asks how his day was and Harry allows himself to slide back into the familiar pattern. Something about Louis fills other people with confidence, and Harry is no exception. Somewhere in the back of his head he knows that he’s probably either weak or stupid (or both) to just allow Louis back in. But Louis is Louis and so Harry just rolls over and allows him right back into his heart.

“D’you wanna go for a walk?” he asks eventually.

“Sure,” Louis responds, a smile breaking out. “But I’ve gotta be back by three twenty cause I’ve got work.”

Harry gathers his things, making sure he has his keys on him (he didn’t have them when he got home earlier today and, because his mum was at work, he had to crawl through a window), before grabbing Lola’s lead and a plastic bag.

After Louis has a brief debate with himself over whether to leave his bag or not (which Harry shouldn’t find endearing, but he does), he decides to just take it with him.

As they leave, Louis waits so they can walk side by side. Harry is surprised; this is new behaviour - normally Louis leads and Harry follows. _But_ , he thinks, _there is something_ different _about today._

They talk and talk. _God_ , Harry missed this. Conversation was so easy when they were friends, something he’s still struggling with when he talks to his new friends.

He feels a strange sense of belonging, despite not having talked to Louis in so long. And as Louis laughs and asks him about his life, his family, his friends, how he’s doing, he feels himself fall all over again.

\----

They have a long history, Harry and Louis. They met in primary school, Louis the shining star, everyone’s favourite, and Harry the new kid, just out of home-school and so painfully shy. From the moment he met Louis, Harry loved and hated him fiercely, or at least as much as a seven year old can. Because Louis talked to everyone, _everyone,_ except Harry. He would barely even smile at him. But then there would be times like the Movie Incident, where he would stick up for Harry. He would refuse to even look at him, but he would defend him, pointing out that _Harry should be the character. It_ was _his idea after all._ It would make Harry so confused that this effortlessly cool boy (who would whisper swear words when the teacher wasn’t listening but then also help others with their work without being asked) seemed to hate him for no reason but would also defend him, because Harry was too shy to do it for himself.

\----

“Where d’you wanna walk?” Louis adjusts his bag straps.

“Along the waterfront, I guess,” Harry says hesitantly. “It’s supposed to be just past high tide, I checked before we left.”

“Okay.” Louis grins, teeth flashing white in the sun.

\----

Year Five came around and Louis’ best friend Matt moved away. Suddenly Louis was talking to Harry, laughing at his terrible jokes, inviting Harry over to his house, demanding Harry sit with Louis’ group at lunch. Swept up in the whirlwind of attention, Harry just let it happen. He got to know Louis’ friends: Niall, who he knew beforehand, was the butt of most of the jokes, constantly doing something stupid; Zayn, who Harry quickly became friends with, always classy and telling outrageous stories; and Liam, who followed Zayn like a puppy and never warmed up to Harry. With Louis’ guidance, Harry was no longer the shy, scared boy in the corner but instead glued to Louis side, smiling and laughing and talking throughout class. He loved it.

By Year Six, they were inseparable. Harry-and-Louis. Most of the teachers no longer bothered to distinguish their names or send them anywhere solo, as they knew the other boy would sneak out and follow.

Then Year Seven hit. Two major things happened. The first, Harry shaved his long hair for his cousin with leukemia. The second happened towards the end of the year. Their teacher, a teacher everyone in their small school looked up to and idolised, died suddenly, one Wednesday afternoon after school. The next morning when Harry arrived at school, Louis looked straight up at him from the prayer circle at the front of the room and opened his arms. Harry almost ran into them. Grief tore them apart and knit them back together tighter than ever as they held each other and stared into the flames of the lit candles, and Harry made a desperate wish that Louis would never be taken from him like that.

\----

They cross the road. “Does this feel weird?” Harry asks curiously.

“What?” Louis sounds confused.

“I mean, us, hanging out, it’s kind of, I don’t know, it just feels… weird.”

“Nah,” Louis says breezily. “I think it’s good.”

\----

In Year Eight, Harry and Louis were the kings of the school. They had the most ‘leadership badges’ between them and were amongst the smartest in the class (Harry ahead of Louis). Their group were the most popular kids and everyone knew who they were. To be fair, it was a small school, but even the new entrants knew their names. Harry couldn’t have cared less. He spent most of the year in a daze of grief. And although Louis didn’t say anything, Harry knew Louis’ smiles were just as fake as his own.

There were a few times he felt almost okay. Like one hot summer afternoon, when Harry and Louis climbed benches and shelves in the sports shed to reach the rafters where, sweating in the heat radiating from the roof, they scrawled their names across the beams. _Harry. Louis. Harry and Louis were here. Louis and Harry 4ever._ If either of them thought that sounded like something a couple would write, they didn’t mention it. Eventually a teacher kicked them out of the shed but their writing stayed, looping around the rafters like a promise.

\----

There is a reason Harry invited Louis over. There’s something he needs to tell him. But the words get caught in his throat and instead he stays quiet and watches Louis’ eyes sparkle, blue as the sea that stretches out behind them.

“Your hair’s longer.” Louis says quietly and it sounds like a confession.

\----

The sea holds a lot of memories; the time Louis invited Harry to his family’s holiday house for a few days. They slept in twin beds in what was normally Louis’ sisters’ room, Harry unable to sleep in the heat, instead lying awake for a long time and gazing out the open window at the stars as he listened to Louis’ even breaths. The next morning he woke first, watched the way Louis’ eyelashes fluttered on the pillow and the covers pooled around his tanned limbs, before he tore himself away and fled to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face and wake himself up. Later that morning, Louis announced excitedly that they would be going guppy fishing. Louis’ family had tandem bikes (which Harry thought were the _coolest_ thing) so after grabbing twine, bait, a bucket and a net and changing into swimming shorts, they biked to the pier. It wasn’t even afternoon yet but the temperature was already climbing, tar-seal melting into sticky black blobs on the road and the sun heating their backs as they pedalled. They arrived and chased seagulls who, exhausted by the heat, halfheartedly flapped a few metres before settling back down. Gathering their gear, they set off down the wooden boards to what Louis promised was _“the best spot”_. After eyeing Harry’s pale back, Louis triumphantly pulled sunblock from the bucket and slathered it over Harry’s skin. Harry let him, ignoring the strange twist in his gut that had recently started appearing whenever Louis touched or smiled at him.

\----

“What’re you thinking ‘bout, Haz?” The pet name startles Harry; it’s been a long time since he’s heard it.

“Nothing important.” he replies quietly. It’s important. It’s so important.

“Oh.” Louis says almost inaudibly, and Harry thinks Louis might be remembering the time when they knew each other's thoughts as well as their own.

“Your friends seem cool.” Louis says out of the blue. Some part of Harry wants to make a snide comment, to remind Louis of the reason Harry had to find those new friends. He wants Louis to know how much he hurt Harry. But he doesn’t say anything, and the quiet _Oh_ hangs in the air like a weight.

\----

The fishing didn’t last long, Harry eventually leaning too far over the peeling boards to attempt to reach a guppy with the net and flopping into the water with a splash. Louis immediately abandoned the fishing gear and cannonballed with a yell into the water next to him. They were laughing when Harry suddenly realised he’d been holding the net when he fell in. Louis spotted it floating off in the distance and they swam after the pink blob. They were both strong swimmers, fit from years of training in the local squad, but the current was too strong and so Louis yelled at Harry to swim for the shore before they could get dragged out to sea. By the time they made it to the beach, they were exhausted, and lay on the hot sand for a few minutes, watching the endless blue sky stretch out above them. After some time, Louis rolled over towards Harry. “You okay?” he asked, and reached out a warm hand to Harry’s bicep.

“Yep,” Harry grinned, “That was kinda fun,” He rolled his head to the left and was suddenly confronted with Louis’ face close to his own. “I’m, uh, sorry about the net.’

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Louis shrugged it off. “It was only a cheap two dollar shop one.”

For a moment, a conflicted look crossed his face. Harry was about to ask what was wrong, but Louis jumped up, pulling Harry with him. He set off back along the beach and, as always, Harry followed, shaking the sand from his hair as he went.

\----

They’re passing the sports field by the time the conversation shifts back to normalcy. They talk about the past, about the present, anything but the overbearing elephant of the in-between. Harry makes a joke about the psychologist he sees weekly, something about repression. “I don’t know what that means.” Louis says and he's only half-jokingly but he laughs anyway and Harry thinks of an afternoon on a beach and tearful confessions.

\----

That trip to Louis’ holiday house was the beginning of the end. Harry found out Louis’ secret on the last day of their stay. They had tandem-biked to the beach, Louis wanting to show Harry the platform of black rock just around the headland. Discarding the bike and their helmets, they made their way along the grassy bank; the sand too hot to walk on. Harry ran a hand through his helmet-flattened curls, feeling the tackiness of leftover seawater from their swim earlier that day. Louis ran on ahead, always in front. After clambering around seaspray-drenched rocks, they found themselves on a wide expanse of flattened rock, waves lashing against the edge. Something abruptly shifted in the atmosphere and they both wandered off in separate directions; Harry to the centre of the platform, Louis to the edge. Time seemed to stretch on forever amidst the screeching of gulls and crashing of waves, the air sticky with salt. Eventually Louis stood. Harry took it as his cue and he followed Louis off of the platform and back over the jumbled rocks.

“Louis,”he called suddenly. Louis halted before turning and making his way back to where Harry leant against a large rock. He had a smile on his face, but Harry thought briefly about how the seaspray on his cheeks ran like tears. “I, um, I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Haz?” Louis asked gently. “You can trust me.”

“I’m.. I’m back in counselling.”

“Oh,” Louis said, and was quiet for a minute. “That’s good though, right? It means you’re getting help you need. And you know I’ll always support you.”

Harry felt his heart swell in his chest and his eyes stung slightly. Surreptitiously, he tried to wipe the tears away with the corner of his shirt. But Louis saw and scrambled over the rocks to pull him into a hug. Harry felt Louis’ shoulders tense slightly. Sensing that he was about to say something, he kept quiet.

“Haz..,” Louis started, “I, um, well if you’re going to be honest, I probably should too.”

Harry ran a hand carefully along Louis’ back and felt Louis’ shoulders relax slightly.

“I, uh, back there? On the rocks? Well I kind of, um,” The rest came out in a rush, almost a sob. “I-was-thinking-about-throwing-myself-off.”

“Oh,” Harry said quietly. Louis shoulders tensed back up again so Harry changed his hand movements to calming circles.

“Lou,’ he whispered as he heard a quiet sniffle. “I’ll always support you too.”

That seemed to release something in Louis, because Harry felt tears run down his back and Louis’ shoulders shook under his hands. The whole thing spilled out of Louis during that sunny afternoon, how he didn’t want to live anymore, how he sometimes thought about drinking bleach, thought about just _ending it, Harry_ because sometimes he felt like he _can’t do this anymore_. Harry cried with him. Because Louis was such a bright, shining star and it broke Harry’s heart that Louis was so exhausted and so sad. After a while, Louis pulled back and wiped his eyes. Harry watched as his mask slid back over his face, the familiar fake smile returning, and he found himself wishing Louis would let it slip more often.

“You can’t tell anyone,” Louis said desperately. Harry understood.

“You can’t tell anyone about me either.” He replied softly.

“Okay.” Louis said and, just like that, Harry agreed to the most difficult promise he’d ever made.

\----

“Hey, Louis?” Harry starts, but then Lola walks into the path of a kid on a bicycle and he has to pull her out of the way. The moment is lost. Harry makes another joke to cover it, about the boy on the bike and a question in their exam earlier this week. Louis laughs and they talk about a classmate who made a meme out of the question. Harry is only half participating. His mind is occupied with the thought that always arrives whenever he thinks of Louis: does Louis know it was Harry?

\----

Two weeks after Louis’ revelation, Harry was still thinking about it. He was old enough to know that this promise was different to promising to keep a crush a secret, or promising to keep a birthday present a surprise. He had nightmares that he woke up in the morning to his mum’s tear-stained face whispering something about _Louis_ and _suicide_ and _dead_. He replayed the phone conversation his mum had when the school phoned to tell her about his teacher over and over in his head, except he imagined it was about Louis, his mum telling him _there was nothing they could do_. _I’m sorry, baby, he’s gone._ Two days later, Harry wrote a note and made an attempt.

The next time he saw Louis, it was at swim training. They kicked their way down their lanes, holding boards, on either side of the lane rope, and Harry winced as the chlorinated water seeped under the gauze on his wrist and stung. Louis just smiled.

“That’s why you shouldn’t do that.” he said, speeding up and racing away from Harry, his kicks sending sprays of water crashing over Harry’s face.

Harry got home from training and cried. His mum asked him over and over again, _what’s wrong, Harry, please tell me_ , until he broke. His mind filled with a desperate whisper of _You can’t tell anyone_ , he told her. Because he couldn’t lose Louis. Even if Louis found out and never wanted to be near him again, at least Louis would be alive and angry instead of gone.

\----

An old couple passing them on the walkway smiles and greets them. Louis responds quickly, Harry following a beat later. But they barely notice him. Because everyone focuses on Louis. How could they not?

\----

Louis never invited Harry around anymore. At swim training he’d barely acknowledge him and Harry could only watch on as the other swimmers clustered around Louis like moths to a flame and shut Harry out in the cold. He started noticing bruises on Louis’ arms, purple and brown splodges across his ribs as he sped past Harry in the lane. Harry would pretend to be asleep when his mum tried to wake him up at 5:30 for morning trainings and then he’d cry the whole car trip and have panic attacks nearly every training. When he eventually announced he wanted to quit, his mum didn’t even put up a fight. Harry could tell when she was keeping secrets and he knew she was hiding something about Louis. She finally told him one night as she tucked him in. Louis’ stepdad had sent her a message. He didn’t think it was ‘appropriate’ for Louis and Harry to be around one another anymore, thought Harry was a ‘negative influence’ and that they needed 'space from each other'. Harry yelled at his mum, blamed her for forcing the secret out of him. She stood and left but not before she turned and quietly said: “If you two really value this friendship, you don’t have to listen to anyone.”

Harry cried himself to sleep.

\----

They reach the stretch of pathway behind the town supermarket. Already falling back into their old patterns, Harry knows Louis can sense there’s something that needs to be said. And for the first time that afternoon, he realises that Louis has something he wants to say too.

“Louis.” he says.

“Haz.” Louis smiles.

“I need to tell you something,”

\----

Louis completely ignored Harry the whole summer. Harry divided his time between his family and scrolling through Louis’ Instagram feed, endless photos of a smiling Louis in a wetsuit with a surfboard, or in swim shorts, tanned arms wrapped around his sisters. At one point Louis posted a photo of him and Harry. It was from the day Louis taught Harry to surf. Harry remembered the sun beating down as he fell time after time, before he finally stood and Louis clapped enthusiastically before tackling him off of the board. They rolled around in the water and for a moment Harry had almost wondered what would happen if Louis tried to kiss him. Instead, Louis dunked him. When he surfaced, Louis was chasing the drifting surfboard through the sparkling waves.

In the photo, their arms were around each other. They wore matching grins, wetsuits pulled to their waists and the droplets of water running down their chests forever frozen in time. There was no caption. Harry’s fingers itched to type out a message, to beg Louis to just forget what his stepdad said, to make everything go back to normal. But then he remembered Louis’ face as he turned and kicked away, felt the memory of the pool water on his face. _He’ll break your heart one day,_  Harry's mum always said. He clicked his phone off and after tossing it onto the bed, went upstairs to join his family.

\----

“It’s kind of a long story,” Harry says. “You’ll probably figure it out pretty quickly.”

Louis just looks at him expectantly.

“So you remember in Year Four when everyone had a crush on that singer?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles broadly, “I think I was the only one who actually liked her though.”

“Louis,” Harry says patiently, “Everyone liked what you liked.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Louis says, and Harry wonders how someone could be so blind to the hold they have over people.

“Well anyway,” he continues, “I obviously only pretended to like her.”

Louis is silent, listening.

“And then you know about my crush on Daisy in Year Four-”

“What!” Louis interrupts, “You liked Daisy?”

“I’m sure I told you about that,” Harry laughs, although maybe it was one of those things that they assumed the other knew; they pretty much shared a consciousness once.

“And, well, no,” he clarifies. “I thought I liked her because everyone said she liked me.”

Louis laughs at that and Harry has to smile at the thought of his younger self being so blind.

“And I also said I liked Allison in Year Seven, which was kind of hard with Zayn liking her too and Aidan being so possessive over her.”

“I actually saw Aidan the other day,” Louis says thoughtfully. “He’s exactly the same.” He grins conspiratorially at Harry and the familiarity of the action makes Harry’s chest ache.

“Anyway,” Harry says, “I didn’t actually like her either. I think it was all actually me just trying to avoid the fact that I’m- “ he stumbles over his words slightly. “That I’m gay.”

“I had a feeling.” Louis says calmly. Harry would believe his air of nonchalance, but he’s spent years studying Louis from close and afar and he knows his tells. Louis’ fingers twitch slightly at his side and he reaches to fiddle with his fringe as he curls his lip in to bite it.

“I’m sorry.” he blurts suddenly.

“What?” Harry is confused.

“I’m sorry for being so… absent. For not being there for you. I was… dealing with a lot, but I shouldn’t have been so, I don’t know. I’m just sorry.” he trails off. Harry is momentarily speechless. In the few conversations he’s managed to snatch with Louis during the past three years of high school, Louis has never once apologised.

“I know, Lou.” he eventually says. Louis looks at him and Harry realises it’s the first time he’s called Louis that in three years.

“Harry-” Louis says, but both of them know he doesn’t know what to say next.

 

They walk in silence for a while, they bright yellow of the supermarket feeling inappropriate in the wake of such a serious conversation. The silence isn’t uncomfortable; they’re just lost in their own thoughts. Lola bounds on ahead, golden tail wagging happily. Louis watches her and Harry watches Louis. He thinks about Louis’ face, inches from his in hot sand; the faint freckles on Louis’ shoulders that grew darker in summer; that text - ‘inappropriate’; Louis’ bruises.

Harry can tell that Louis is building up to something. There is so much Harry wants to say but he doesn’t break the silence and waits instead. Louis is quiet for so long that they’ve reached the park and Harry is just about to ask him what he’s thinking about, when Louis suddenly stops and speaks.

“I don’t want to make it awkward,” he says cautiously. Harry feels a desperate hope rise in his chest but he forces it down. “But do you remember that day you lost the net? And that day I taught you to surf?”

“Yes,” Harry says quietly, as if Louis is a wild animal that could startle and flee.

“I don’t think I’m gay,” Louis says uncertainly. “I like girls,”

“Okay,” Harry says, still so quiet.

“But,” Louis says, and then he’s quiet for a bit. “I- I really wanted to kiss you,” he says it so softly that for a moment Harry wonders if he imagined it. Then, “I still do,” he says, louder. “Kiss you, I mean. And,” he pauses, "I always wondered if you wanted to kiss me too."

He looks up at Harry, blue eyes under long lashes, and waits for Harry to process. There are so many things Harry could say but, in his shock, he accidentally says one of the worst things he could.

“Did your stepdad hurt you because of it? Is that why you stopped talking to me?”

Louis reels away and Harry instantly realises his mistake, reaching for him. Louis flinches. It gives Harry all the answers he needed.

“Lou,” he says quietly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can I hug you?”

Louis nods silently. Harry slowly steps closer and wraps Louis into a hug. Louis is so, so tense but he slowly relaxes into Harry’s arms and Harry is reminded of a similar day all those years ago. They’ve aged and changed in many ways but, deep down, they’re still those same boys hugging on a beach.

Louis steps back. “He’s gone now, Haz,” he says softly. “My stepdad. Mum kicked him out after she saw him hit me.”

“Okay.” is all Harry says. It’s all he can say, without breaking into a rage-fuelled rant directed at Louis’ stepdad that he’s sure Louis doesn’t need right now.

“Lou,” he says. Louis looks at him. And, finally, Harry gets it right. “I wanted to kiss you too. I still do. I understand if you need time or whatever-”

Louis cuts him off by kissing him. Harry is momentarily taken by surprise, but then he kisses him back, arms sliding around Louis’ waist. Louis’ hands go into Harry’s hair, running through the tangled curls and tugging slightly. Harry’s mouth opens at that, and Louis slides his tongue in, then they’re making out in the middle of the park as the sun beats down and, for a moment, Harry is taken right back to swimming at the beach and fishing off the pier and talking for hours late at night in Louis’ room. It feels like coming home.

Eventually they have to break for air, but Louis doesn’t move away and instead stays pressed against Harry’s side as they watch Lola roll around in the grass.

There’s a lot of things they haven’t said, things they still need to work out. But right now, Harry allows himself this moment in time, frozen like that old photograph, two boys with their arms around each other, standing triumphantly in the afternoon heat.

**Author's Note:**

> I have written other fics but this is my first long-ish one. Sorry if there's any grammar mistakes or anything, but I just wrote this with a concussion so my brain isn't really working. Thanks for reading though. Kudos/comments are appreciated :)
> 
>  
> 
> Also, anyone who read You'll Never Feel Like You're Alone (I'll Make This Feel Like Home) and is waiting for an update (sorry!), I should be uploading one within the next few weeks as I've neglected it for too long and I miss it :)


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